


To Die is Easy

by Twentyonedunpilots



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Facing the past, Fear, I had to write this for an english assignment, Implied OCD, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kind Josh, M/M, Past Abuse, Relationship(s), Tyler's dad was a dick, somehow i ended up here, yes my english assignment became a fan fic im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentyonedunpilots/pseuds/Twentyonedunpilots
Summary: Tyler Joseph's life was far from perfect but Josh Dun didn't care. He's learned how to love Tyler's little quirks in ways others couldn't.





	To Die is Easy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a response to a novel we had to read in English and somehow I ended up here. The story is kinda different to how I probably would've written it as when I wrote it I was trying to relate it back to the novel as much as I could character wise. Also, this is a little edited from the version I will hand in for English as this has added Joshler in it just in case you were wondering how I could possibly get away with writing this, either way, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Also, finally my sentence structure may not be too good, I haven't done 100% of my editing yet.
> 
> \- SJ

Tyler’s eyes were distant again. It was as if he were a million miles away in his mind yet motionless in reality. I tapped his thigh with my foot and he shifted peacefully back into the real world with a questioning moan. “You were spacey,” I explained.  
“Sorry,”  
“It’s okay,” he moved his eyes away from mine and stared vacantly at the wall again. “you’ve been more spacey than usual recently, any particular reason?”  
“No. None”  
“you always say there’s no reason. You can tell me you know? It’s what I’m here for,”  
“you’re not my therapist”  
“I know,”  
“sorry”  
“it’s okay”

On days like this, most conversations went this way. They were mainly one sided and mostly ended with an apology. Tyler never had to be sorry, he just felt like he did.

We sat on the balcony of our small apartment and usually, neither of us did anything, we just sat. Tyler found it calming, and who was I to disagree.  
Today Tyler had his ukulele. He wasn’t playing just constantly trying to get the strings into perfect tune, he wouldn’t stop till they were perfect, sometimes he would spend hours on one string.  
Tyler dragged himself up off the ground after feeling content with the sound of the small instrument and grabbed the door handle glancing inside before turning to look at me. “You’ll catch a cold out here. Come inside.”  
I knew he didn’t think I was going to catch a cold –it was only just coming to the end of autumn and it was hardly chilly– he just didn’t want to be alone. “of course,” I smiled up as he grabbed my hand and helped me up.  
“I swear you need to start buying clothes that actually keep you warm, not just make you look good,” Tyler added to his story as we walked towards the living room. I chose not to reply and instead watched his left knee buckle slightly under his weight as it would per usual. I slowly trailed my eyes over and watched as his hands shook slightly, it was one of his days, but recently, when hadn’t it been one of his days?

Tyler wasn’t always like this. He didn’t always have these little obsessive quirks, he did once have a normal life. It didn’t change all at once or overnight, it was a combination of events that once placed together on a specific timeline lead to a change that would alter his life indefinitely.

From what I knew which was not much, it all began on a dark night, in a cold winter, on September 18th, 2011. On her way home from picking him up from basketball training Tyler’s mother Alice Fulton’s car only made half the journey before sliding off the road and into a snowy tree, making white turn red. Tyler was fine, shielded from the blow of the tree but not from the blow of what was to come.

Long weeks would go by and gradually Tyler’s father riddled with grief and longing acquired some unhealthy coping strategies, seeking unwholesome alternatives to deal with his emotions. These alternatives began with alcohol then moved to add the raising of his voice and then the raising of his hand and piece by piece Tyler’s body and mind were turned into a personal punching bag for whatever his father needed that day.

It didn’t take long for Tyler’s father to degrade him into submission, into believing the crash was his fault, that he shouldn’t be alive, that it was his fault his mother was dead and not him. He was only 15.

Tyler had informed me once late at night of the time he almost died. His father was angry and in turn collided a beer bottle with Tyler’s face and neck. The nurse told Tyler if the ambulance had been a minute later he would’ve died. Tyler said there were other times, but he never shared. He told me he always got away lucky, I don’t see how anything in his life could be considered lucky.

It was from my calculations three years before Tyler has the chance to leave his father and start fresh somewhere new. A small apartment in a suburb of New York, cheap and dusty, but to Tyler it was everything. I still remember the way his eyes would light up as he would tell me that he owned everything in the small apartment even though nothing was of grand significance.

It was about a year later we met in a secluded coffee shop. Tyler was trying to remain unseen by those around him, watching them all closely, yet still managing to keep his head up high, strong and proud. When we talked, he was surprisingly confident and bold even though I could see the small quirks he had within the first few words and he knew. I remember that day so clearly, he was so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Tyler moved away from his small apartment less than eleven months later to live in Florida in a slightly larger and nicer apartment with me where I began to learn more of the small traits that he had picked up from him time with his father.

It started rocky, some days harder than the rest. I never blamed him though. It wasn’t his fault. It was the small details that you learned to love, as hard and confusing as that could be.

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” I ask Ty who instantly sticks his head up from the worn black book in his hands as his hands stop scribbling the endless wonderings of his mind. It was September 17th.  
“You knew?”  
“Of course I knew Ty. I might not know much, but I do know a few things,”  
“If you already knew what was bugging me why did you feel the need to ask about my ‘spaceyness’?” he snapped, the boy had a sharp tongue and had always been ignorant, he’d been that way as long as I’d known him. “Could’ve just let me be”  
“Because I want you to tell me things.” By this point it was a staring match, neither of us angry just nonchalant. We’d been through this before.  
“I’m not that interesting.” With that, the conversation was over and Tyler returned to his notebook. He wrote poems. Never finished any but he still continued to start new ones nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and continued to watch the TV which was airing some pointless show neither of us was paying any attention to. 

Tyler’s phone began to ding, once, twice then after a small amount of time a third. I furrowed my eyebrows. Tyler never got messages unless they were from me. He didn’t even have social media, he said the whole idea was vulgar. In my opinion, I think it was because he didn’t want to give anyone a chance to hurt him any more than he already had been.  
He reached forward and grabbed his phone off the coffee table, his eyebrows were as furrowed as mine. But as he read the screen his face returned from confused to casual and unreadable. I continued to stare. He didn’t reply to the message, he just dropped the phone down beside him, furthest away from me and continued to etch pieces of his mind into the page before him.  
I knew I shouldn’t ask, I should’ve waited till he was having a better day, but I couldn’t contain my curiosity. “Who was it?”  
He looked up his face giving a slight twitch. “No one worth my time and especially not worth yours dear Joshua,”

I smiled but as he glanced back down I couldn’t help but wonder why he suddenly had a slight change of mood. He wasn’t giving the straight to the point answers I was used to or expected on a day like today. I considered the chance that he may be covering something up. Tyler was smart, but I had known him for too long.  
“Ty,” his eyes didn’t leave the page. He continued to write, his writing getting more rapid and disordered as he continued. “Ty,” I repeated. Nothing.  
I reached forward softly grabbing Tyler’s hand that was now just scribbling messily over the bottom of the page, he dropped the pen and his fingers laced with mine. He was shaking and as I watched his hands a single tear drop bounced off the surface of the chaotic page. “Who was it?”  
He drew in a sharp breath and handed me the phone not making eye contact just staring piercingly into the void of nothingness that surrounded him.  
I used my free hand to unlock his phone and pull up the latest message, it read:

Unknown number: Tyler, is that you?  
Unknown number: It’s your father.  
Unknown number: I need to talk to you, please. It’s important. I need to tell you some things and they need to be done face to face. Please. We can organize a time and place to meet. I just need to see you. Son, please.

He didn’t sound as I expected. I expected him to sound ominous and forceful, this man just sounded desperate and broken. He was a contrast to Tyler. You wouldn’t tell from a day like today but Tyler was strong. He was heroic and brave and maybe that had diminished over the years but Tyler held hope in life, and that was the best part about him because although all this bad had happened he still believed life could be good and people could be good. He was a voice of hope.

“Ty,” I repeated once more, and this time he made eye contact with me. His eyes showed a mix of expectancy and determination that I didn’t know how to respond to.  
“I won’t. I’m not going to give him another chance to hurt me or anyone around me,” He was forceful with his words. He wasn’t changing his mind. My eyes darted to the side of Ty, I wasn’t so sure. His father sounded desperate. “No, you don’t understand what he will do,” Tyler knew what I was thinking.  
“Ty, he sounded so… so broken, what if he wants to… I don’t know,” I stuttered, this wasn’t a situation I knew how to deal with. This was new.  
“No,”  
“Ty.” I kept my eye contact this time, “you can’t keep running. It’s not healthy to shove everything into the back of your mind and hope it will disappear. Even if all you do is message him, isn’t that something? You need to face him somehow, face what he has done. The only time I’ve ever heard you address what you’ve been through was the night you told me and even then, you didn’t dig deep or put any emotional attachment into anything. It’s called closure Ty and you need it.”  
“I- it’s- I don’t know that I can do that,” Tyler was trying, I know he didn’t want to let me down. He couldn’t though.  
“You can, I believe in you. You are stronger than you seem to realize.”  
“Fine. But I will not let him apologize to me. I will never forgive him.” Tyler sighed staring at the floor. “he does not get the satisfaction of my forgiveness.”  
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

That night Ty orchestrated what he considered an appropriate message and then finally after reading, re-reading and re-re-reading the message he sat next to me on the couch the message sent and out of his hands. The T.V. only served as background noise as Tyler began to talk.  
“Tomorrow morning, the park on Main Street. I take it I’m not going alone,”  
“You know me too well.”

Tyler didn’t sleep well that night, I didn’t expect him to. The message from him father functioned at first as a good distraction from the ever-looming day that marked the sixth anniversary of his mother’s death but now that the dark had crept in it’s just adding to Tyler’s increasing mound of problems.  
He awoke several times from nightmares. Nightmares were a common occurrence, but within the last few months, they’ve been slowly becoming less frequent.

When I awoke for the final time it was 7:30 AM and Tyler was nowhere to be seen. A wave of panic was the first thing I felt before hearing the gentle hum of Tyler’s voice out on the balcony. I left him out there alone to make breakfast and by the time I was done he was inside taking his black coffee with a gentle smile.  
“Your coffee making skills still haven’t improved,” he stated chewing his cereal, before grabbing a few ingredients and dumping them in his coffee and tasting until it was perfect. This was normal.  
“I’ll add that to the list under your inability to chew with your mouth shut.” That earned a scoff from Tyler followed by a smirk, “What time are you supposed to be meeting him?”  
“Nine,” Tyler replied a look of uncertainty in his eye,  
“It’ll be fine,” I said,  
“It always is, isn’t it?” Tyler questioned making sure he had every piece of cereal from the bowl.

As we drove to the park, Tyler’s hands twitched rapidly on the wheel while his breaths came out uneven and shaky. He was tired, there were bags under his eyes and I wondered whether they were a permanent feature on his face or if they’d disappear as the days did.  
Tyler pulled the car up to the curb beside the park and took one deep breath trying to mask his emotions as per usual. “You should wait here,”  
“What if he hurts you again?”  
“Why do you think I chose to talk in a public park at peak jogging time? He’d have to be crazy to act out here,”  
“You’ll tell me what happens right?” I ask, I just want him to talk to me and tell me what’s going on every now and again, I never thought that would be so hard to achieve.  
“Yeah,” he smiled reaching over a giving me a soft peck on the lips before exiting the car leaving me to sit by myself contemplating what the hell his father could want to say.

I began to let my eyes wander around all the people in the park anyone of them could be his father. Tyler never had any photos of either of his parents or from his childhood except for the one small photo he has framed of him and mother a few years before she died, so I had no clue what to be looking for.

I watched closely as Ty took a seat on a small park bench and stared vacuously into the open. As good as it is for him to address these issues, I can’t imagine what kind of memories this whole situation must be bringing up and forcing him to think about.

His head shot up as a man probably around his mid-50’s was stood to Tyler’s left. Tyler immediately stood up stiff as a post and I held my breath. It was his father. I watched from a distance as his father’s face morphed into a desperate cry for help and I wished I could hear what he was saying. Tyler’s faced stayed the same. Neutral, cold and unmoving.  
All of a sudden it was as if he had hit a nerve, Tyler’s face twisted into one of anger and fury as his mouth worded what could only be a yell of the word of “Stop!”  
I stepped out of the car, worry, and desperation the only emotions present in my mind. I’d never seen Tyler like that, he’s never been furious, he’s never been one for yelling.  
I watched as his father’s face seemed to fall, but Tyler didn’t stop until he was satisfied and stormed away his knee giving its signature buckle under the force of his steps. “Ty?”  
“Let’s go,” he muttered walking past me to get into the car. I took one last look over my shoulder to his father before following.  
“So?” I ask as Tyler pulls away from the curb and onto the road, “That…”  
“Not yet. Please,” he said drawing in a sharp breath. I would leave it alone for now.  
When we got home he went straight out to the balcony and just sat, his legs dangling over the edge between the bars and his head tilted down, he was struggling to breathe.  
I sat beside him keeping my distance he needed space, but I knew he also needed the validation of another person’s presence. “I’m ready,” he sighed once he was able to control his breathing. I opened my mouth to reply but he had already stood and gone back inside.

I walked back inside and sat on the couch next to where Tyler had made himself comfortable and was currently holding the framed photo of him and his mom. His hands shook and for the first time, he looked vulnerable and exposed. As he began to speak his words were soft and shaky but he was confident in what he had to say. He started with the small details and then started to explain every little thing that had changed him, every time it got too much, everything he could possibly remember. He talked for hours but it felt like mere minutes to me.

“I can still feel his hand on my arm some days, if we were in public and I did something he didn’t approve of he would grab my arm and to everyone else it looked like a father just kindly holding his son’s arm, but he would dig his nails in and I would feel like my whole arm was slowly dying.”

Tyler talked until he had explained everything from the last six years and then he took a deep breath and explained what his father had said.  
“He started speaking and it was just so pathetic. My father was never pathetic. He towered above everyone and everything. That man he wasn’t my father.” Tyler rubbed his forehead nervously, “he didn’t even say hello he just started with the whole, ‘I’ve gone and gotten help, I’ve realized my mistakes’ bullshit. He just kept going on and on and I couldn’t take it. He wanted me to feel sorry for him, for me to say it was okay and that I forgave him. I can never forgive him. Never.” Tyler stopped and a look of disappointment flashed in his eyes, "Then… then to top it all off he had the nerve to tell me, to tell me that he tried to kill himself, after everything that happened, of course, he did, of course, it was him, that was his move.” Tyler sighed and closed his eyes, “I just, I needed him to stop after that. I didn’t want to hear any more.”  
“What did you say to him,” I dared to ask,  
“I told him the one thing that I live by,” Tyler smiled and as if he had said it a million times before whispered, “Oh dear Joshua, to die is easy, but you have to struggle to be able to have life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, if you wanna leave me some feedback it would be greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
